Page 44 of The Mafia's Broken Vows

And when he did visit, we were too caught up in each other to do much else.

“You talked,” she scoffs. “About what, the weather?”

“Kira—”

“Okay, fine. Since you apparently learned nothing about him, let me educate you. An underboss is like . . . the heir apparent. Second in command. He calls the shots when the big boss isn’t around. His brother, Nico Vitelli, is the Don.”

My stomach flops, and I swallow the lump in my throat. I can’t even say I’m surprised because I know firsthand the degree of danger the man exudes. Still, it’s quite jarring to hear that he’s just not a common member of the mafia.

Kira’s voice drags me back to the present. “So, you ran into mobster ex and banged him like a drum, then broke up again or whatever. What has that got to do with you not wanting to go to Chicago?”

I heave out a sigh wondering whose version to tell. My father’s or Dante’s. I choose the latter. “He told me to never come back to Chicago.”

Kira scoffs in disbelief. “Or what? He’ll shoot you on sight?”

“Of course not.” I snort.

“Good,” Kira snaps. I can see she’s working hard to rein in her temper. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this annoyed and I wonder why.

“I don’t care if he drew a line in the sand and warned you not to cross it, you’re coming with me,” Kira states.

“Kira, really I wish—” I begin, but she cuts me off.

“You lied to me, Addy. For two fucking years. So, no, you don’t get a say in this. If you don’t agree to come, I’m going to cancel the entire gig.”

She jabs her thumb behind her shoulder. “And I’m telling everyone in there that you pissed on their parade.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. I think of Kira’s friends inside—the excited chatter, the anticipation for this gig. And I know she’s right; I’d be public enemy number one if I messed with their night.

I sigh, defeated. “Fine,” I say, throwing my drink back. It’s not like Dante will know I’m there. I force down the cocktail, wincing at the trail of fire it leaves down my throat. It doesn’t taste as bad as the pink one, but it’s three times as strong.

But apparently, my promise to be at Evanston isn’t enough for Kira because she continues to fume. “I’m so annoyed with you, Addy. It’s just so unfair to me.”

I wonder why Kira is so upset. Yes, I lied to her, but she’s acting like she knows Dante personally or something.

Kira continues, “Can you believe I was coming out here to tell you how much Zedd likes you and then to be blindsided with all this?”

“Zedd?” I scrunch up my face. “But we’ve just met.”

“And you’ve hit him like a thunderbolt. He’s begged and is still bribing me to get you to come to Chicago. And I thought, why not, the girl has not had a date in over a year. Little did I know you’ve been busy screwing Dante Vitelli.”

I ignore the last part, take another gulp of my drink, deciding it tastes like gasoline, and instead ask, “I thought you had a crush on Zedd?”

She waves a dismissive hand, “Like, eons ago. Anyway, he’s into you. Do what you will with that information.”

She turns and storms inside while a wave of nausea hits me so hard, I gag. For the second time, I put my glass away, turn my face to the wind, and take steadying breaths.

This time it doesn’t work.

By the time I start to taste the cocktail I drank a minute ago, I know there’s no stopping its messy reappearance. I glance at Kira’s retreating back and the sea of bodies inside, cursing because there’s no way I’ll make it to the guest bathroom.

I rush to the corner of the terrace, which I hope is out of eyeshot to those behind the sliding glass doors, and promptly throw up right on the floor. It’s loud, it’s messy and so humiliating that tears sting my eyes. I’m not even drunk, and I’m puking my guts all over the place. Again.

What the hell is wrong with me today?

“Addy!”

Shit. Kira is too perceptive. She was practically back in the house, the music thumping loudly and the sounds of the city drowning my retching, but still, she heard me.

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